British Problem
by To Mockingbird
Summary: British accents make everything better. Being a wizard named Harry is overrated. Being part dragon, however, is awesome. Unless you're Harry.


**British Problem**

* * *

This fanfiction is fictitious. Any resemblance to other fanfiction, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Purely coincidental.

* * *

Harry Dresden had a problem. A big problem. One with a British accent. Granted, it was more polite than most problems, but it was a problem nevertheless.

"Let me get this straight," said Dresden, struggling to wrap his head around what the stranger had just said. "You're a wizard."

"Correct!"

"Named Harry."

"Also correct."

"And you're . . ." Dresden paused. He took a deep breath and tried again. "And you're from another dimension."

"Excellent! I do believe you now have a good understanding of the current situation."

"That's not the part I don't understand. It's the part _after _that."

"The part where I explain that I am the immortal Master of Death who was trapped under Demonreach? Or the part about my incredible magical powers that can kill Outsiders, destroy the world, and give souls to the Fey?"

"_Hell's Bells. _Gah. Dammit." Dresden added a few more choice words before clutching his staff tighter. He attempted to slow his rapid heartbeat and only partly succeeded. "Yeah. All of it." The tall wizard's eyes widened and his heart suddenly sped up again.

"Wait a minute. Did you just say you could give souls _to the Fey?_"

When Harry Dresden said _the Fey_, he wasn't referring to Tinkerbell and friends. He was talking about soulless creatures that tore out hearts for fun and could not tell lies.

"Of course I can! I can do anything, really."

"But how?" He struggled to wrap his head around that. The Fey couldn't have souls. That's what made them Fey.

"By marrying them, of course. What, I didn't tell you about that?" Harry Number Two smirked in a way that made Dresden want to punch him.

"Of course," continued the British wizard. "I have a harem of beautiful supernatural beings and humans who are all attracted to my accent and incredibly handsome looks. I can make anyone fall in love with me. Including you, my dear American friend." The other wizard smirked again, but this time it made Dresden swallow with fear.

"Obviously, I've never given up on my true love, who is either Ginny, Hermione, or Draco, depending on who you ask."

"Oh. Ok. Um, those names mean nothing to me, but thanks." Dresden shook his head slowly. For an inter-dimensional wizard capable of destroying the world, this British chap was surprisingly helpful. Thanks to him, Dresden knew _who_ and _what_ the other man was. Now he needed to know _how_ and _why_.

"Any other questions?"

"Actually, yes. So, how did you get here?"

"Through the Veil."

"The what?"

"The Veil."

Dresden resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What's the Veil?"

"No one really knows, to be honest," replied the other Harry cheerfully. "So it's a very convenient device. The Veil is normally used for inter-dimensional or inter-universal travel, though it's also used for time traveling. Honestly, it's the best excuse."

"Well. Where's—"

"The Veil? Department of Mysteries, to be exact. But that's back in the other universe. Don't bother about it."

Department of Mysteries? Who came up with _that_ name? Dresden sighed, and then promptly reminded himself that a world-destroying British twenty-something was standing in front of him.

"So why are you here?" asked Dresden, finally.

Pottery—or whatever the man's name was—grinned. "I've been waiting for you to ask that." He immediately launched into a harrowing tale of governmental corruption, neglectful authority figures, and power-hungry warlocks—a tale long enough to fill seven books.

". . . and that's how I defeated Voldemort," finished the still-smiling man.

The American wizard stared blankly. "Right," he said after a few minutes. "As much as I appreciate a detailed account of your life from ages eleven to seventeen, that still doesn't explain why you're _here._"

For the first time, Potter (not Pottery, as he had thought) frowned. "Oh that? That's nothing interesting. It varies. I could be here because of boredom, suicidal tendencies, or a terrible accident. Obviously, it's not limited to those."

Dresden gaped incredulously at the nonchalant wizard. "Oh, come on! You're here because you're _bored?_ Stars and Stones, couldn't you think of a better reason?" He hesitated. "You're suicidal too? Well, uh . . . I, well. . ." This was awkward. What did you say to a bored, suicidal, and immortal Master of Death?

Potter gestured impatiently. "I didn't say I was suicidal, I said I _could_ be suicidal. There is a big difference."

"Sure there is." Dresden looked uncomfortably to the side. "Look, I honestly have no idea what to do with you. How about we have a Soul Gaze to clear things up?" The guy didn't seem to harmful. Then again, he was apparently trapped under Demonreach or some nonsense, so there had to be something wrong with him. Actually, there was a lot wrong with this Potter boy, and he was damn annoying but not really murder-worthy.

"Oh, those don't work on me. And don't bother trying to use your Sight on me, either. I'm special, and basically better than you in every way possible." The smugness on Potter's face was positively nauseating.

"Shut the hell up," grumbled Harry Dresden. "I get enough of that cooler-than-thou attitude from the normal supernatural bad guys. I don't need to hear it from you."

Harry Potter smiled brightly and punched Harry Dresden square in the nose, sending him flying backwards. After falling unceremoniously onto the ground, Dresden responded by cursing up a storm. The punchee took a deep breath while cradling his abused nose and proceeded to glare with enough irritation to burn holes into Horcruxes.

"Empty Night," growled the bruised wizard. "What was that for?"

"I am the only one who can be condescending and snarky. You don't deserve that right. Is that clear?" The frightening expression on Potter's face vanished and was replaced by his usual arrogant one. "Oh, I suppose I forgot to mention my incredible strength. Oops."

Finally, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden began to get angry. You could threaten world domination. You could insult Burger King. But you could never, ever, ever challenge his snark.

"That's it. Potter, you're going down!" Dresden pointed his staff at the smiling British man. "You may be incredibly powerful, and you may have powers that break the universal laws, but I've faced worse than you! You may be an Outsider, but I am the Winter Knight, the Warden, the Starborn!"

"But _I'm_ the Boy-Who-Lived, and I slayed Voldermort. I'm also the Master of Death," interjected Potter.

Dresden groaned and smacked his forehead. "_Dammit_, Potter. You can't just interrupt me like that! I'm giving an epic speech here! Honestly, kids these days. No respect, no showmanship." He paused. "Besides, my titles are cooler." The staff began to glow with a dangerous white light. "Master of Death? Give me a break. More like . . . Master of Dying!"

It was the other Harry's turn to roll his eyes and groan. "See? This is why I'm the only one who's allowed to snark." He pulled out his wand and smirked. "At least I'm not overcompensating."

"That's not what your mother said last night." Belatedly, Dresden realized his mistake and hastily added, "Besides, if you were so interested in my size, all you had to do was ask. And a staff is way cooler than a girly wand." Dresden sighed. "You know what? Just . . . just forget it. Fuego!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

". . . and that's how I got this weird lightning-shaped scar." Harry Dresden took a long swig of Mac's famous beer and rested his head against the counter.

Karrin Murphy and Thomas stared at Harry with a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and amusement.

Thomas was the first to speak. "He tried to kill you by saying Abracadabra?"

"No, he said Avada Kedavra. Get it right."

Thomas wisely said nothing more. Karrin, on the other hand, still looked confused. "Wait. So what happened to the other Harry?"

"He ate the fire I blasted at him." Harry grabbed the bottle and downed the rest of it.

"He ate it." Karrin repeated the words slowly, unsure if she had heard it correctly.

"Like a sandwhich?" Thomas couldn't help but comment, though he promptly regretted it.

"Yup." The wizard grabbed the empty bottle and grimaced. "Apparently he's part dragon or something."

"So . . . where's the man now?" Karrin tried one more time to make sense of the situation.

"Beats me. It's not my problem anymore. He poofed away, and I'm not gonna worry about it!" Harry grabbed the bottle and waved it around to emphasize his words.

The bartender Mac silently placed three bottles in front of Harry. The already-drunk wizard took one and started guzzling it down. Karrin and Thomas glanced at each other before grabbing one for personal use.

"Forget what I said earlier," said Karrin, opening the bottle. "I need a drink."

"After hearing that story," replied Thomas morosely. "So do I."


End file.
